Sundance
by angel6200
Summary: It's an AU Western - so it packs some heat. Meaning guns, short tempers, a dry landscape and some sex. Enjoy :)


**Title: Sundance  
Author: angel6200  
Fandom: Once Upon A Time  
Rating: M  
Pairing: Emma/Regina Summary: **It's an AU Western - so it packs some heat. Meaning guns, short tempers, a dry landscape and some sex. Enjoy :)

* * *

**Disclaimer:**

Any similarities to the characters of OUAT at intentional but I make no claims to own them.

This is an AU fanfic. It is my first one – ever. If you're expecting a story that sticks closely to the characters and plotlines you know and love this probably isn't for you.

If there are rules to writing these kinds of things I'd probably break them, intentionally. But if you're open for a kind of wild ride, saddle up and enjoy :)

Any constructive feedback is greatly appreciated. Also if you like the story, I'd love to work with an editor. Okay, enough – giddy up! -

* * *

The heat rose in sheets off the gentle slopes of the crisp yellow hills.

The crackle of the dry brush under her horses' hooves and the rising dust from the broken earth create a hypnotic atmosphere as they continue along their lonely trail.

A hawk flying overhead cries as he spots the little dot on the land, dipping closer to the radiating ground, hoping to find a bit of prey to fill it's withering carcass. The angry sound of the bird snapped her out of the slow undulating rhythm she's let her body succumb to atop the horse.

How long has it been? She knows instinctively that its well past noon from the angle she has to lift her head to locate the blaze of the mid day sun. Shifting the faded brim of her hat, she wipes the sweat away from her brow with the back of her forearm. She uses her fingers to comb aside the few long strands of sun bleached hair that have fallen around her face before repositioning the hat.

Another two hours or so if the directions she was given in the last town were right. Directions she asked for three days ago, she muses wearily as she brings the almost empty canteen to her chapped lips. Three days ago when her water packs were full and her company was, well, a lot more energetic.

A quick glance over her shoulder confirms that the man whose hands are tied together is still dragging his feel wearily through the dirt behind the horse. She didn't need to look, for he was tethered to the saddle horn and she'd felt every stumble, curse and escape attempt along the way.

One the second day out he'd gone quiet, too quite for her liking. Not that they talked mind you but he was her captive and she meant to deliver him alive. The silence could only mean one of two things.

After a time, when her captive thought she'd accepted his submission he dug his heels into the ground and jerked his hands back so violently, so suddenly, that the horse reared to the side before bucking in a wild kind of horror. Throwing her weight to the opposite side, she wrestled to steady him for fear of rolling. Once she'd taken control of the mustang, she calmed him with soothing tons as they cut across the field towards the nearest Manzanita tree.

Upon dismounting she secured him to the tree with its peeling branches. With a casual purposefulness she withdrew her .22 caliber rimfire from its holster and reached for a sweat stained handkerchief in her back pocket. She walked lazily towards the man as she began to polish the engraved barrel of the revolver.

"Dusty out here, ain't it?" she drawled every so slightly. It's the first thing she's said to him all day. She rubbed some of the dust away from the groove between the wooden handle and the silver of the butt.

"Sometimes it gets in the way, sometimes it makes it hard to see straight, wouldn't ya agree."

After giving it a final once over she tucked the handkerchief back into her rear pocket and looked down the barrel of the gun towards her captive, as if to check that it might still aim correctly among the dust and grim of the open trail.

At this the dark haired man spit in her direction, his aim hitting its target and finding its place atop her boots. He flashes her his signature wide toothy grin as his only reply.

"Hum, well, I can see yur aim is prutty sharp considerin." She pauses for a moment before asking, "Tell me, would ya, which hand did ya use to gut that poor woman after ya took everything else she had?"

His next answer is a blackened middle finger and with that her trapping instincts kick in as she suddenly jerks the rope taunt that holds him at arms length, as if pulling in a catch on a line. He reels back then forward and when he steps out to the side of her, it only takes a swift kick to the back of the knees to send him to the ground. He lands unceremoniously on his stomach with a grumph as his hands splay out in front of him.

"I'm a fair woman, wouldn't ya say," it's more of a statement than a question. "I've treated ya well enough. I've let ya live haven't I? I fed ya what I have. Hell, I've even shared my water." Something she now regrets.

For a second she toys with the thought of shooting him right through the hand that moments before flashed her the middle finger. But damn, it's hot and she doesn't want to have to clean up the mess that would cause. She simply decides to stomp on the outstretched fingers until she hears a decisive crack, well several actually. He gasps for breath around the shrieks of pain, and flops about in the dirt for a time before curling up in the fetal position nursing his mangled appendage.

Damnit, she hates this. It's never easy, everyone tries to escape but for once she wonders, might there be some honor in being captured. Some mutual understanding that they've both just doing what it is they do in this life and now its time to accept their current situation. She stops at that, for if she was most likely marching towards a public hangin' she thinks she'd too try to escape. But she knows the difference to be that she'd be hung for acts that've saved her life, although she doesn't expect others would ever understand.

Looking back at the man on the ground she decides he's a damn moron. If this doesn't teach him a lesson she'll be forced to use her gun next time and wouldn't it be nice to just deliver up her charge and collect her bounty without having to explain blood-stained bandages.

Returning to the present, she shakes her head to clear it from the memory. She narrows her eyes to set her focus on the open land ahead and they continue on in the mid-day heat.

* * *

It's the boy who spies them first, off in the distance.

He sits under the one green tree at the edge of town, in the corner of the little family cemetery. No one will ever search him out here he's thought a million times. He's situated in the dirt as he flips through the pages in this his newest picture book. He knows his mother won't approve of the state of his clothes but lately he doesn't seem to care. Images of knights and maidens, mythical creatures, curses and themes of good and evil fill his sight as he devours every page.

Had it not been for the whinny of the tired horse he would have missed them as they approached. To say he was absorbed wasn't quite accurate. Somewhere beyond the pictures he was living out another life, one of adventure in another time and place.

But since very little seemed to happen in their small town the figures in the distance caused him to hurry to his feet. He stood on his tiptoes trying to understand exactly what was coming towards him. Too far to see them clearly, he gently tucked the book behind the tree and began to hoist himself up, branch by branch for a clearer look. By the time he settled at a comfortable height he could just about make out the strange sight of the golden horse and the lean yet strong framed woman slowly approaching.

Her face was concealed due to the broad brim of the rich brown Stetson, but he could see the long strands of her flaxen hair slapping at her shoulders as she neared. Her denim and button up showed signs of travel and the slow pace of her arrival made his heart suddenly begin to beat with a fierce curiosity. Had that sight not been excitement enough, he now stared open mouthed at the image of the man trudging along in haze of dirt that hung in the air behind her.

At this his small mind exploded and he scrambled to the ground as quickly as his young body would allow. Running out the waist high gate of the small cemetery he tore off towards them fast as he could to greet the strangers just before the border of town.

Slowing as he approached, the woman quickly assessed the young form in front of her. Harmless she thought as she watched him stumble over himself as he tried to stop his momentum a few hundred paces before her.

It took him a time to find his breath, both hands on his knees, but while he tried he glanced up to catch the first sight of her features. Brilliant green eyes sparkled in the last afternoon light and she offered him a slight nod of her head.

"This Storybrook?" she asked as he calmed himself.

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Looks more like a dry creek kind of town from where I'm sittin," she shifts and looks up ahead.

"Oh, you haven't seen the half of it!" he huffed excitedly. "The name's more a matter of family heritage, that's what my mother always says," he adds in a tone well beyond his years after remembering his manners. "Natural springs all over this land but since the miners diverted the water for panning the towns lucky to have it's own supply. "

Caught off guard by his mature tone, she takes to studying the boy. He can't be more than nine or ten. His gangly limbs alone indicate that a few things have yet to drop. His clothes are quality save for the dirt about the trousers. It's in the next moment that she takes in his soft brown hair and his kind smiling green eyes. A few sparks flicker around her brain, moments of darkness, pain then light try to push to the surface. There's something almost familiar..

"Hey, I need to piss!" her captive pipes up for the first time making his presence known.

"Yur gonna have to wait, we're practically here," she growls back. It's been a long journey and she glad this day is about over.

The young boy takes a few steps back but then puffs up his chest to keep face in front of this obviously brave and somewhat wondrous woman.

Sensing the young boys anxiety she smiles and winks to let him know he has nothing to fear. And in that moment he gives his heart to her the way only an innocent child can. He doesn't know this woman but the simple act combined with his sense of awe, and maybe a distant longing he can't quite comprehend solidifies his devotion right then and there.

"The stables are at the far end of town," he offers. "I could run ahead and get the stall ready for you. He's a beaut and I'm sure he could use a good brush down after your travels. I could even help out as you look like you have important business to attend to and all." He fails to mention the fact that his mother never lets him near enough to a horse for fear of his being kicked or bitten.

Again she nods her head, this time in appreciation.

"Thanks kid, just gotta drop off some baggage first," indicating to man behind her. "Well, see ya in town I suspect."

He smiles eagerly then takes off running in the opposite direction.

* * *

It begins slowly but by the time the new arrivals make their way to the center of town most folk have abandoned their late afternoon chores, deciding rather to line up along their covered porches to get a good look at the odd duo entering the town.

To say word travels fast in a small town is rather accurate when the town itself consists of one long street lined with buildings on either side. Their wooden facades speak of a time not too long past, of the rush to settle and the excitement that accompanied the 49ers. The signs that hang above the porches announce the practical day-to-day runnings of a town; the mail, the blacksmiths, the general store, the little white chapel that doubles as the school house. It was not unlike most small towns however the defining feature is undoubtedly the greenery.

To a newcomer it might seem peculiar that the street is lined with thriving trees and shrubs, among them an absurd number of crimson rose bushes that speak of an unusual aesthetic appreciation, or vanity, that takes priority over conservation at this time of year.

But this vanity must belong to a mannered few, certainly not the men that sit rocking idly with eyes fixed on the horizon, nor the young ones that cling to their beer and rented women from the balcony of the town's only saloon. It's these men that break the silence that's followed them into town.

"Gawd damn! What we got here!?" one shouts.

"Now that's a way to teach a man a lesson, ain't it?" a girl jokes and the whole upper floor of the saloon explodes with laughter, trying to push through the double doors to take in the circus below.

The noise outside causes Regina to glance up from her work. Leaning forward she peers out the office window but sees nothing from her current position. Only when the men begin to pour out of Gran's Saloon across the street does she closes the town ledger she's been working on.

Decidedly, she rises from her desk to check on the disturbance, but not before taking a moment to reposition the hoops and smooth out the fabric over her bell shaped skirt. Now she heads for the door to greet whatever evening amusement has caused the hoots and hollers she hears in the street. Simple people will always flock to simple distractions, she thinks.

"This is why hanging are so useful for maintaining the peace," she adds quickly under her breath. She bristles with electricity at the recent memory of the power these public acts provoke.

As she steps out the front door to her office Henry all but collides with her. With the practiced grace of a mother cat picking up its kitten she catches him by the back of his collar. "And where do you think you're heading off to in such a state young man?"

"Uh.." he tires to think of a quick lie but he's an incredibly honest boy so instead ops for the truth, "No time Ma, gotta ready ourselves. She coming!" he points behind him. When Regina turn to look down the street she finally sees the cause of the ruckus. Gawking for an instant at the sight, she forgets herself and releases the hold on her son. This, his mother's brief distraction is all he needs to escape.

"Henry!" she calls, turning after him but he's gone from sight. Sighing and more than a bit annoyed, she turns back to the chaos in the street. She allows for a deep breath before raising her chin and somewhat stately stepping off the wooden sidewalk. Slowly she takes to the center of the street to await the woman heading her way.


End file.
